


I Can Do This

by Mums_the_Word



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mums_the_Word/pseuds/Mums_the_Word
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is pulled into a job by Mozzie and, for once, he feels out of his depth. Peter and Diana are witnesses to the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Do This

 

 

     Neal was really overjoyed to see Peter and Diana open the door of the surveillance van early Thursday morning. Help had thankfully arrived after an extremely long and tedious night spent with Jones watching their latest suspect’s apartment in Queens. Absolutely nothing had happened on the monitors, as Neal and Jones fought off boredom and fatigue hour after hour. Neal envied the suspected perp, who was probably tucked comfortably in his bed snoring away. What did the FBI expect? Normal people slept during the night. Then Neal amended that thought. When he was in his heyday, Neal had conducted a lot of business under the cover of darkness -- said business being clandestine thefts, heists, exchanges, etc., etc. Ah, the good old days!

     Now that Neal had “given up that life,” he currently embraced a normal Circadian rhythm. That particular cycle was telling him to go home to his loft and hit the sack for at least a few hours. Mercifully, Peter had given both him and Jones a pass today, so he was his own man right now and would be left to his own devises, sleep being his primary objective.

     When he did manage to stumble up the long flights of stairs to his apartment, he haphazardly donned a pair of sweat pants and an old t-shirt before collapsing across his bed. He was the only one home today, so the house was completely quiet. Bright sunlight filtered in through the glass patio doors, but Neal simply closed his eyes with a sigh and quickly descended into Morpheus’ realm.

     A few hours later, a distant pounding pulled Neal from a really explicit and delightful dream. It wasn’t a knock, per se; it was more like someone was trying to kick in his door. That door was unlocked, so if it was the Marshals or the police for whatever reason, they damn well better not break it down and damage June’s property! Then he heard a familiar voice, “Neal! Neal! Open up. I haven’t got all day!!”

     When Neal quickly answered the frantic summons, he immediately realized why Mozzie had resorted to kicking. The rather short man had a huge satchel that bulged in an alarming way slung over his left shoulder. A thick, cumbersome patchwork quilt, held in place by his left arm, was crushed against his chest. Incredulously, there seemed to be a stuffed giraffe sticking out of the top. In his right hand, he held the handle of a portable baby carrier that, oddly enough, contained an actual baby. Mozzie quickly zoomed past Neal, lowering the infant carrier to the floor as well as all the other paraphernalia.

     Of late, Mozzie had become a dedicated nanny to Diana’s little son, Theo, after he had proven his exemplary expertise at being a baby whisperer. No one was more surprised than Diana was with Mozzie’s prowess and proficiency, but the little guy always had the ability to amaze and astound those around him. It didn’t hurt that Mozzie loved the infant with an intensity that Neal had never witnessed before in his long association with his friend. So, most days, Theo was with Mozzie. That left those clandestine night hours for the squirrely little man to take care of whatever was on his agenda at the time. The arrangement seemed to work for everybody. However, it seemed that today was different.

     “Neal, I just got a communication from ‘Manny the Mole’ and it’s imperative that I meet with him posthaste. He says it can’t wait until tonight, so you’ll need to take care of Theo for a bit.”

     Neal cocked his head quizzically. “Manny the Mole, Moz? I’ve never heard you mention that name before, and with alliteration like that, it’s unlikely that I’d forget.”

     “Of course you haven’t, Neal. Since you seemed to have acquired that annoying predilection of not lying to the Suit, I have refrained from telling you everything,” Mozzie snorted.

     “I’m hurt, Moz,” Neal pouted. Then the depth of Mozzie’s words belatedly sunk in and Neal sputtered, “I can’t take care of a baby, Moz. That expertise is definitely not a talent in my wheelhouse!”

     Further discussion was interrupted by innocuous babbling emanating from the infant carrier. Neal turned to see an eleven month old staring up at him with huge brown eyes that were studying him intently. Apparently, Theo hadn’t made up his mind yet if Neal had passed the test, whatever that might be. He was still withholding judgment until further data was available. Neal suspected that perhaps too much of Mozzie’s suspicion and paranoia was rubbing off on Theo.

     “Look, Neal, it’s no big deal,” claimed Mozzie. “I’ve got everything that you’ll need right here, and if you run into a snag, just have June help you.”

     “No, no, Moz! June isn’t here. She’s in Chicago visiting her daughter. You can’t leave me here all alone to care for Diana’s son. I might break him, and then Diana will do horrible, terrible things to me!” Neal’s fear was real.

     “Calm down, mon frer,” Mozzie placated. “You’ve handled priceless things before like fragile old paintings and manuscripts, and delicate Faberge eggs. You can do this.”

     Before Neal could get another word into the now one-sided conversation, Mozzie rattled off instructions like a drill sergeant. “In this satchel are spare diapers, baby wipes and a special lanolin cream that you **_must_** use on his nether regions. There are also bibs and extra outfits, all color coordinated. There’s his ‘lovey’ blanket that he needs for his nap later this afternoon. That’s non-negotiable; he simply **_must_** have it to fall asleep. Mr. Giraffe is a help, too, but not essential. His pacifier is optional. If he seems fussy and has his fingers in his mouth, give him his teething ring. Keep it in the refrigerator so that it is nice and cold. If that doesn’t seem to help, there’s a gel that you can rub on his gums to soothe teething pain.”

     Neal felt gob-smacked as Mozzie spat out more dictates like a slot machine spitting out coins in Vegas. “All his meals are in the insulated part of this bag. There’s Quinoa cereal and a soft banana that you can mash up and add to it. But don’t put any refined sugar in it, Neal. I will know if you did! I have blended up some naturally grown carrots and peas. He really likes the carrots, but you may have to insist with the peas. Apparently, the green side of the vegetable color wheel does not impress him. We are currently at loggerheads about that, ergo the rather copious collection of bibs that I have included. His specially prepared soy formula is already in the bottles. Just dump out anything that he doesn’t finish. There’s plenty, but if you run out, you can give him some of the natural juice that I have included, but not too much ‘cause that sometimes wreaks havoc with his digestive track.”

     Neal just continued to stare at Mozzie as if the man was speaking a foreign language. Neal was fluent in at least eight languages, but obviously, this wasn’t one of them. “Mozzie,” a panicking Neal started, “How long will you be gone?”

     “Gone” was the operative word here, because that’s just what Mozzie was in a New York minute, the door slamming behind him. With a certain amount of trepidation, Neal turned to face his new ward. They gazed at each other speculatively, neither giving an inch in their perusal. Neal wondered what Theo’s assessment of him was. In the course of his career, Neal had sat across from a plethora of law enforcement interrogators and held his own, but this little guy’s unwavering glare was really unnerving, to say the least. Ultimately, Neal backed down first from the stare-off, and a Peter phrase passed through his mind. He was going to have to “cowboy up.” How hard could this be? He had taken care of Bugsy and Satchmo from time to time. Babysitting surely couldn’t be that much different from dog sitting. He could do this!

     Now the most vital part of being a conman is an ability to read a person’s body language and facial expressions. Neal was a quintessential confidence man. He could have written a textbook on the subject. However, that particular skill did not encompass a “mark” under the age of one year. In the blink of an eye, with no warning whatsoever, Theo’s placid little face mercurially dissolved into a pathos-written expression, and he began a wail that reached an ear-splitting crescendo. Neal dove for his phone and speed-dialed Mozzie, who answered on the first ring.

     “Mozzie…..he’s crying and I don’t know why. I haven’t had a chance to do anything to upset him,” Neal babbled loudly to be heard over the uproar.

     “Relax, Neal, it’s just a bit of stranger anxiety and to be expected. Don’t freak out. Just hold him, walk him around a bit, and maybe see if he needs changing. Don’t call me back anymore because it’s silent running on my end from now on.” Then Mozzie clicked off before Neal could even respond.

     The anguished crying continued with no sign of a let-up anytime in the near future, so Neal quickly spread the quilt onto the floor. Apologizing to Theo for being all thumbs, his normally nimble fingers faltered when it came time to unravel the mysteries of the intricate buckles that held the straps in place. Finally, he persevered and was able to lift Theo, who he held awkwardly at arm’s length, until he could gently place him on the floor. For a minute, the relentless crying ceased and Neal breathed a sigh of relief.

     “I guess that you just don’t like being restrained, Buddy. I can certainly relate to that,” Neal assured the baby boy.

     However, the interlude of a cease-fire was fleeting as the wailing started yet again. Faced with a Draconian decision, Neal relented. Holding his breath, he gingerly picked up the infant in his arms and began to pace the floor with him. Theo stiffened his back and pulled in lusty gulps of air to add fuel to his screaming. Neal paced the perimeter of his loft non-stop. While traveling the circuit, he tried bouncing, cajoling, then humming, then softly crooning, but it was all no use.

     Okay, maybe Plan B needed to be initiated. Neal got down on his knees and placed Theo before him. Rummaging in the satchel, he extricated the necessary box of wipes, the special cream, and another disposable diaper. “Okay, it’s now or never, and you can do this,” Neal reassured himself.

     After pulling open the tabs, Neal had to breathe through his mouth to keep from retching. How could one tiny creature manage to produce such toxic waste? Neal intrepidly removed the offensive and mercifully disposable article, and then used half a box of wipes to clean every nook and cranny. He was very pleased with himself for a job well done when he felt the warmth of an arcing stream of urine trail its way down the front of his t-shirt.

     “Seriously, Dude?” Neal looked at his shirt and then at Theo. “That was really not cool!” Theo just looked up at Neal and actually smiled. Baby smiles can melt anyone’s heart and Neal was no exception.

     “Okay, little man, no hard feelings,” Neal relented.

     As Neal was repacking things away, he saw Theo flip onto his stomach, then laboriously manage to hoist himself onto all fours. Instead of beginning to crawl as Neal had expected, the baby just rocked back and forth and seemed fearful of actually trying to move ahead.

     “It’s really not that hard,” Neal assured him. “It may take a little practice at first, but you’ll get it.” Since he was alone with the baby, Neal didn’t feel ridiculous mimicking the little boy by getting down on all fours as well and giving a demonstration. All this earned him was a skeptical glance from Theo who then plopped down on his bottom instead. Neal watched in fascination as the ingenious child used his arms to push down on the floor and lift his posterior. He then skewed himself sideways at an awkward angle. After a series of these lift and shift maneuvers, Theo had made good progress in a journey across the floor. He had spotted Neal’s Italian loafers in the corner and was making a beeline for them.

     Neal thought it best to remove the tempting items and substituted the small hand toys that Mozzie had included in Theo’s survival kit. The child picked them up one by one and threw them across the room. He then gave Neal a look that seemed to say, “Is that the best you’ve got? It just ain’t gonna cut it!” Then he took off again in a quest towards Neal’s kitchen cabinets. After a rather arduous journey, Neal took pity on the little tyke and opened the cabinet door so that Theo could peer inside. Colorful plastic Tupperware that Elizabeth had left months ago fascinated the small explorer. A wooden spoon added to the ensemble made a perfect percussion instrument, and as Theo banged away, Neal’s clear tenor voice completed the impromptu jam session.

     Eventually, Theo ran out of steam, and to Neal’s delight held his little arms out to be picked up. Neal had really never been around babies, so he was rather awkward at first with this arrangement. Nevertheless, Theo was a man with a plan and managed to worm his way onto Neal’s shoulder and mold his warm body to his caretaker’s. Amazingly, he was asleep in a minute, his soft, moist breath fanning Neal’s neck. The sense of peace and contentment that the conman experienced was like nothing he could compare to anything else in his life. This tiny being had given himself over completely with total trust; it seemed that Theo’s “lovey” blanket had been replaced by a nervous, inexperienced substitute named Neal. It was awesome!

     They both slept for almost two glorious hours before Neal felt little fingers plucking at his face. Apparently, it was time for round two. But to Neal’s surprise, Theo awoke sunny and happy from his nap with none of the histrionics displayed earlier.

     “Maybe you’ve gotten used to me now,” speculated Neal. “See, I’m not such a bad guy contrary to what you might otherwise have heard. I’ll bet that your mother has a lot to say about me. When you can talk, we’ll have to have a little information sharing session.” Theo smiled, so apparently he was good with that plan.

     Neal thought that the baby might now be hungry, so he pulled out what was supposed to be the child’s lunch. It looked suspiciously like what had been in that diaper. Nonetheless, he dutifully mashed the banana and added it to the cereal, then gently warmed the pureed vegetables in the microwave. As he sat across from Theo and began to shovel bit by bit into the little mouth with a baby spoon, he soon realized that he had forgotten to put a bib in place. Drool and globs of food had made their way onto the child’s outfit as well as the floor. Well, it was too late to turn back now……in for a penny, in for a pound, but it certainly seemed like more food was ending up on the outside of the toddler than on the inside.

     “Look, I agree that this looks gross,” Neal stated to the little boy, “and it probably doesn’t taste much better than it looks, but Mozzie says you gotta eat this, especially the peas.”

     Apparently, Theo was a rebel like Neal because those peas were spit out with a vengeance, getting not only on Neal’s t-shirt but also in his face and hair. Eventually, even the “beloved carrots” were more fun to spit than to eat. There was no success with the cereal either. Neal was willing to give Theo the benefit of the doubt, so he gingerly dipped his finger into each of the foods and tasted them. Nothing had any seasoning so they were bland mush to his palate. “Bleh,” he mumbled and Theo laughed that deep belly laugh that babies have perfected over time. Neal eyed him while in deep contemplation, waging an inner battle that little Theo wasn’t privy to. Not yet, at least.

     Leaving Theo on the now ruined quilt, Neal went to the refrigerator to retrieve a container of El’s homemade chicken noodle soup that she had insisted he take home from dinner at the Burkes the other night. It was thick with noodles and studded with carrots. Using a fork, Neal made quick work of mashing it into a soft consistency that he briefly nuked. The wonderful aroma permeated the room and little Theo’s brow perked up in a question mark. Cautiously Neal spooned some into the child’s mouth and was prepared to duck. Miraculously, not one drop escaped the baby’s lips and his little arms flapped in pleasure. Now they were on a roll and the soup disappeared quickly, topped off with a bottle of formula. As the baby drank, Neal toasted him with his own cup of Italian roast. Unexpectedly, Theo suddenly produced a resounding belch that seemed to have originated in his toes. Neal laughed and gave him a thumbs up.

     “Okay, here’s the deal, Buddy. You can’t tell on me, even though I suppose the evidence will make an appearance on its own by tomorrow in your diaper. But, in the meantime, mums the word!” Theo giggled conspiratorially **.**

************

Peter and Diana were relieved of their surveillance duties around three in the afternoon. They returned to headquarters to write up their reports, but before Peter could even get started, Diana was racing up the steps to his office, a stricken look on her face. She held a memo note in her hand. Apparently, Mozzie had left a message saying that he had been called away on urgent business and he had left Theo in Neal’s care. Diana was beside herself with worry, and even Peter found himself a bit concerned. Together they jumped into the car and headed toward June’s mansion. Diana was all for using the bubble light and siren to get them there faster, but Peter was trying to remain calm and didn’t want to add to the hysteria.

   Once they reached Riverside Drive, they both hurried up the stairs and burst into Neal’s apartment without knocking. The sight that greeted them was almost surreal. Neal and Theo were both seated on the floor, their clothes an unquestionable mess. There was a large canvas in front of the child, who was using pudgy little fingers to squish and smear green, orange and brown goop onto it. Apparently, he had been at this finger painting for some time because the canvas was nearly completely covered with swirls and wavy lines. When Theo looked up at his mother, he laughed delightedly. He seemed to have as much of the “organically-grown paint” on himself as did his artistic work in progress.

     Neal looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Diana, I didn’t expect you this soon. I swear that I was going to hose him down before I returned him to you.”

     The usually taciturn and acerbic female agent suddenly found herself at a loss for words, so Neal hurriedly added, “I think he’s got some serious Jackson Pollack talent going on here.”

     Special Agent Peter Burke, an astute observer who never missed a clue, remarked with a wry smile, “And you, Neal, have got some serious green gunk going on in your ear!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to my readers for this silly bit of whimsy. The devil made me do it!


End file.
